


Where'd You Go?

by MarbleAide



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, Book References, Gen, Jimcest - Freeform, Kidlock, M/M, Mental Anguish, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Drabble]</p><p>“Where…where’d you go?” Richard chokes out, bringing his hands up to his face to make his own darkness to look at, thinking it might not be as horrible as the one surrounding him. His voice is pained and quiet, trying to break through the thick silence and the monster’s voices that were starting to set in soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where'd You Go?

**Author's Note:**

> Based when Jim and Richard are kids/teenagers.

He wakes up in the darkness and doesn’t know why. It’s not the first time this has happened, but his mind isn’t focusing on such logic. It’s short circuiting; only attaching his thoughts to the idea of how crowded around the darkness he feels, black closing in on him slower and quicker all at once. It feels like it’s all squeezing too hard on his lungs, choking him and compressing the oxygen straight from his body until he’s gasping, trying to force the air back in.

All he can think is darkness and how completely and utterly alone he is.

It takes a whole two minutes of panic before he starts screaming. It’s all frantic, making as much noise as he possibly can with the short gasps of air that he manages to suck down. He starts to flail, arms lashing out until his fists hit the door in front of him—closest, it’s always the closest, locked and he knows that but he’s too terrified of everything to even try the knob. He hits at the wood until his fists hurt and he’s sure if there was any light he would be able to see that the skin was broken and bruised, smearing in a thin layer of red that slowly grows as more blood bubbles up from the cuts.

Richard resorts to clawing at the door when his fists hurt too much. The pattern is uneven, but on every few pulls down his nails fall into familiar grooves and dig in to splinter the wood further, the paths created from other encounters only growing deeper. The wood grain cracks under his fingers and stabs underneath his nails, making small pricks of pain explode as he pushes the wood bits further and further under his skin. 

There’s a sharp blinding pain in one of his fingers which makes him scream even louder, choking on spit and panic as he realizes one of his nails cracked. Again. Richard coughs and, finally, can’t bring himself to take in another breathe to yell out for help. His voice is already hoarse and his throat is throbbing from the harsh treatment. He’s left sobbing, letting his body fall heavy to the floor and curl in on himself. 

He can’t breathe anymore. 

The darkness is too thick.

He’s trapped.

Alone. 

“Where…where’d you go?” Richard chokes out, bringing his hands up to his face to make his own darkness to look at, thinking it might not be as horrible as the one surrounding him. His voice is pained and quiet, trying to break through the thick silence and the monster’s voices that were starting to set in soon. 

“Where’d you go?” He says again, this time a little louder, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to make black and white dots explode into his vision. “ _Please--!_ ” He gasps, clenching his jaw until his teeth hurt from the pressure of grinding them together. “Please, don’t go—“

A thin splinter of light that grows and grows is suddenly filtering in through his fingers. Richard gasps and pulls his hands away from his face, not caring that he now has tears and blood streaking his features. There’s too much light that chases away the darkness, making his vision blurry. There’s a shadow in the doorway that blocks out some light and, for a split second, Richard is more terrified then he’s ever been, wishing desperately for the darkness to wrap around him once more. But—

_“I’ll eat you up, I love you so.”_

Richard hears the echo of a voice and chokes on his sob, pulling himself up from the closet floor he’s been laying on for who knows how long. He throws himself at his brother, burying his face into his chest and sobs, cries, lets desperation shake through his body for a long while as he clutches at his protection. 

When he can breathe again, something like an even pattern that stumbles on ever fourth intake, Richard turns his head and just let’s Jim’s body heat surround him. 

He can see blood on Jim’s clothes.

Smell the heavy stench of it on his body.

Feels the stickiness of crimson as Jim threads his fingers through his hair. 

And all Richard does is close his eyes, blocks it all out, and breathes in the scent of his twin.

He’s safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still fleshing our their relationship, but I've always loved the idea of Where the Wild Things Are in comparison to Richard and Jim, so I finally wrote something for that?
> 
> I just adore the book and all that and love what I can do with the dialogue, sooo....


End file.
